


In Other Circumstances

by Celandine_Flower



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homeless Hank, M/M, Mafia AU, Mob boss Connor, Mob boss Niles, sugar daddy connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine_Flower/pseuds/Celandine_Flower
Summary: Henry Anderson, a former police lieutenant, gets picked up by a young mob boss Connor Stern after being homeless for quite some time. Connor and his brother Niles have inherited the flourishing empire of underground technology trade after their mother's recent death. They have seemingly different attitudes towards re-establishing family's connections, which forces Connor to keep Hank - an unexpected witness - close and avoid suspicion in doing so.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

The night was bright and slightly windy. The stars coldly and slowly flickered up in the dark silky-blue sky. Henry Anderson was lying on his back, shivering from the cold. A couple of his bags were standing on the ground right next to the night-bench. His back was killing him again and the rough wooden surface could not help with that. Homeless life sucked. Hank couldn't quite figure out how he made it this far. Or this long.  


A fancy hotel nearby kept shining with long columns of light either from the projectors or the long lamps on the walls. It was ironic how people several feet away were living their best life, having fancy dinners, probably sleeping in soft beds. Hank had dinner today as well, so there was not that much to complain about. There was a lot, sure, but this list could have been longer.  


He could not quite sleep yet, he was not exhausted enough. So he stared into the sky and considered counting the stars to get his mind off of things. He did not turn his head to the soft noise of cars pulling up to the hotel. Most likely, those were some fancy shit-eaters similar to the usual customers of the place.  


He did not move until something strange slithered across the side of his ear. A sound of shattering glass, a couple of screams and... gunshots?  


The former lieutenant quickly sat up and looked in the direction of the building. A broken window was raining with little splatters from somewhere on a higher floor. Without a second thought, the man jumped up on his feet and took a sprint towards the building. He still had a gun on him, and the guys from the DPD would definitely take time to arrive. Jeff should have been well asleep at this hour.  


A stinky thought slid across his mind that perhaps he will be lucky and get a bullet from someone that night. Anderson's own hands were still too shaky and cowardly to take his own life. But he was slowly working towards that, be thought.  


The whole entrance area and, especially, the reception desk were all whipped with chaos. Panicking staff members were trying to calm even more terrified visitors. Slender women in skin-tight dresses and young rich men with knotted-down ties dangling around their necks were rushing towards the exit. Nobody took notice of a dirty old man pushing through the small but quite dense crowd.  


"...intruders on the tenth floor, sir!" - a broad-shouldered woman in security uniform shouted into her phone.  


Hank caught her words and slid into the elevator as the door was closing after the escaping clients. He pushed the button, unzipped his two winter jackets and pulled out the gun. Sometimes the old cop habits were still visible in how smoothly he moved between people and along the hallways. Knees a little bent, eyes peering to the sides, ears sharp and mind concentrated. "Graduation with honors from the police academy, my ass." - he frowned to himself as the shiny metal doors slid open.  


The floor was strangely quiet. No more noise, no screams. There were not that many doors around, and Hank figured that the whole area was supposed to be rented out by just one but extremely rich customer. He moved sideways, almost pressing his back against one of the walls with luxurious gilded patterns. Someone was clearly speaking on the far end of the hallway.  


The sound of the elevator departing caught his attention, but it was too late to turn around and check it. Or run? "Did you want to run, Hank? Come on, be brave, you motherfucker. You deserve it."  


The thick wooden doors with a couple of bullet holes in them were open wide. He saw the shadows of a pair of tall figures inside, sighed decisively, and quickly turned to face them.  


"Hold up!" - his voice sounded sore and growling, immediately catching the attention of the two people in black turtlenecks.  


A fat-looking guy with dark greasy hair and beard kneeled in front of a massive wooden table with a gun to his head. Anderson had no idea who was rich or powerful in the city anymore, and it's not like he came there to learn.  


A lady with a long ginger braid raised her eyebrow at him as he took a cautious step inside. Cold nighty wind slithered under the former lieutenant’s coats through the broken window. However, nobody in the room changed their position in response to his words.  


"Put down your gun, or I will..." - he tried to warn, but a sudden kick pierced his head with numbing pain.  
The weapon fell out of his cold rusty fingers and his tired body followed it to the floor. "That's it, they're gonna kill me now... Thank god," - he thought as the ringing in his ears escalated in volume.  
"Now who the fuck is this guy?" - a female voice asked. The former lieutenant could not see the speakers and the furniture in his sight started losing clear shapes.  
"How am I supposed to know? Shit, the boss said no victims." - her partner replied. - "What are we gonna do now?"  
"I have literally no..." - the woman’s words dissolved in the foam that seemed to fill up Hank's ears.  


The reality closed up on itself and he felt swallowed by that welcoming darkness.  


***  


Anderson came back to consciousness and immediately felt sick. The world was slow and a little spinning around him, but he managed not to puke all over the place. It turned out that the reality was indeed moving around him, or rather it was the man himself riding in a car. God, it has been a long time since he sat in a vehicle. This one was warm. And quite nice. The smell of new leather seats and soft movement of the wheels. He could appreciate that if there was no gun pressed against his jaw the second he dared to move.  


"You're gonna keep quiet," - the familiar ginger woman hissed. - "and do as you're told. Got it?" - Hank quickly gave her a little nod. - "Good."  


The car was quiet. Anderson recognized the driver as another man from the hotel. His hands were tied up with somebody's belt. Not that he couldn't get out of there, but the situation seemed to escalate in an interesting direction. He smiled thinking about his hope for all of this to end quickly. What kind of ironic fate kept him poisoning the ground under his broken shoes? He looked out of the window as if some simple answer could hide there. And a large, well-lit mansion somewhere on the outskirts of Detroit flashed into his eyes. The car turned and definitely headed towards the building.  


"Well, shit," - the former cop thought to himself. - "it's gonna be far more difficult than I thought, isn't it?"  
The vehicle stopped in front of the entrance, passing the massive metal gates which stood way too far from the house. The woman gave Hank a couple more irritated orders as he tried to clumsily get up and out. He was still a big man. Perhaps too big for all these lowered fancy cars.  
"Now, move!" - she pushed the gun to his back again and he obediently stepped closer to the grand marble staircase.  


***  


They escorted him through the shining halls and even more stairs up into one of the rooms. It felt weird to step on the soft carpets and the polished floors of the mansion with his torn winter shoes. Anderson felt a little hesitant and decided to refrain from touching the broad light handrails even though getting up was harsh on his tired knees.  


The room he entered seemed darker than the rest of the building. The tabletop lamp was casting a soft shade on the massive bookshelves along the walls. Heavy curtains looked like tall dark-green columns framing the high window. The calm nightly sky was peeking through the clear glass as if watching over Hank. He would laugh at such a thought, since nobody has given a shit about him in months. Nobody would get upset if he got killed in a couple of minutes. At least he could feel and hear the printed photograph tightly hidden against his weary chest.  


"On your knees," - the woman said firmly, pushing Anderson to the side of the room. - "Hands where I can see them."  
He obediently pulled up his tied wrists and instinctively lowered the dirty grey-haired head. His neck hurt from not being able to rest properly for a long fucking time.  


A slender shadow detached from one of the darker wooden cabinets. The man stood quite tall, even though not as tall as Anderson himself. His figure appeared sharply defined against the soft dark blue of the window. The profile unbarred a smoothed out hairstyle as he turned around.  


"Now tell me," - he said calmly, - "who the hell is this and why is he here?"  
"Showed up at the hotel," - the man in the black turtleneck answered. - "We don't know, boss, couldn't scan him in the rush, and then..."  
The "boss" sighed heavily and took a step so that the lamp could lit his young face covered with freckles and moles. Hank was surprised to see such a petite but handsome person at this evidently high and, well, dangerous position.  
"Tell me, Josh, what exactly are we trying to do here?" - he asked, sounding a little irritated.  
"We're..." - the man hesitated, - "trying to establish proper relationships with your competitors, sir?"  
"No," - another long exhale followed, - "we are trying to show my dear brother that these," - he made a vague gesture, - "relationships may be established without unnecessary violence."  


The woman appeared visibly nervous as she kept the gun pressed to Anderson's body. Hank shat another curious gaze at the young boss and notices his bright brown eyes, a thin line of his lips, and a tightly knotted up tie right over the top buttons of the perfectly-ironed shirt. Such sweethearts were once right up to the lieutenant’s taste, but a lot of water has flown since then. This was another sad thought, perhaps one of the last ones for this fucked up life.  


“Everything was supposed to be clean.” – The man in suit kept frowning. – “But you two disappointed me today.” – The ginger woman audibly swallowed. – “North, Josh, this was the last time you leave the entrance without a proper watch on a mission. Do you understand?”  
The hitmen nodded in unison. Their straight backs were almost dissolving in the dark shadows of the room as if they wanted to disappear themselves. They probably did, Hank thought to himself.  
“So now I have to deal with a witness,” – the boss touched his forehead with two fingers and willfully tried to change his facial expression. – “and it’s not like I’m in the mood for spoiling my house with bloody streams tonight.”  
“Well, fuck,” – Anderson grinned almost unnoticeably but kept his opinion to himself.  


The silence stretched inside the room, heavy and sticky. The shame and regret illuminating from the hitmen were almost visible, while their employer vibrated with either anger or exhaustion. The former policemen kept his position on the floor, taking quick glances all over the room from time to time.  


His old eyes could not catch any titles of the books on the shelves, but he was definitely impressed by their number. The young leader turned out to wear simple plain jeans with his perfect white shirt. A fashionable grey jacket was motionlessly hanging from the back of his leather chair. Silent and distant sky became darker and darker with every passing second, and so the stars on it flickered brighter, mimicking some sort of jewels this rich kid probably owned.  


“Alright,” – a tired sigh broke the dark silence, - “you two – out. Call Echo for me.” – the boss traced a quick circle with his index finger and his employees immediately marched towards the door.  
Hank let out a quick relieved exhale when the woman shoved the gun back, somewhere where it was supposed to be hidden.  
“Lift your head up,” – the guy ordered, moving the flexible neck of his lamp so that the light would shine onto the center of the room. – “I want to see your face.”  


Former lieutenant obeyed and his appearance was revealed in the warm orange color. He suspected that he looked, well, horrific. It’s not like he carried a pocket mirror around, but he hasn’t seen a hairdresser in a while, and his beard definitely went out of control as well. Perhaps his face was even dirty, either from his dinner or something he could catch while falling on the floor. A brief second of hesitation rushed away – Hank shouldn’t have cared for how he looked. Definitely not at the moment.  


The younger man squatted in front of him, face uncomfortably close, perhaps even near enough to catch the smell of Anderson’s breath. He screwed up his incredible eyes and took notice of every detail on the witness’s face. As if the mob boss could scan him. A fast yet experienced glance revealed that the man pulled out a gun =. Hank silently agreed that it made perfect sense, given that they were alone in the room.  


“Who are you?” – the guy asked slowly.  
“’m Hank,” – the answer sounded smothered but honest. – “What is your name, kid?”  
The perfectly-shaped eyebrows briefly rose up but the young man replied:  
“Connor Stern. I believe you’ve heard this name.”  


Hank did. He knew about the old but decisive Stern lady, who held the whole technological industry in her iron fist since he got out of the academy. However, the recent word was that she got killed right after murdering her main competitor in the field. These underground deals were always out of the police’s reach, so his colleagues only used the speculations and theories as topics for conversation over their morning coffee or cigarettes.  


Hank nodded, hesitant to make too much noise and possibly provoke the young mob leader. The guy sighed and stood up merely a second before the wooden door opened. A square of bright light lit the room for a moment while a woman in an elegant black suit stepped in. She appeared quite delicate, slim and not especially tall, but former lieutenant had his own share of unexpectedly dangerous little ladies.  


“Take his fingerprints, Echo,” – Connor bowed his head in the captive’s direction. – “picture and whatever else you need to investigate his identity.”  
The woman nodded and took a couple of steps towards Hank, who started feeling a tiny bit more concerned about his own well-being.  
“…and take him into the guest room,” – the boss added with a tired sigh. – “It is already late enough.”  
“Of course,” – her voice sounded a little hoarse and definitely serious. – “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”  
“I will wait for the dinner in my bedroom, thank you,” – Stern made a firm dismissing gesture and turned to face the window again as if he could see something in that indifferent sky.  


This close, the blue color of Echo’s hair was noticeable even in the dim light. She took Hank by his upper arm and lifted him up in one strong smooth motion as if he didn’t weigh… well, as much as he weighed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank gets settled down in the Stern mansion, but his position and future remain uncertain.

The former lieutenant was honestly afraid that “guest room” was some sort of a euphemism for a torture or execution chamber, but the world turned out better. It was quite a fancy bedroom with an adjacent bathroom and a luxuriously decorated interior. At least the place seemed this way to Hank, who, to be fair, hasn’t slept under a roof for around a week. The cheap motel he rented last time appeared way more… modest, to say the least. Another thing he desperately needed was a hot shower, and, thank god, it was available. 

“Mister Stern has requested the staff to treat you as a guest,” – Echo said, remaining strict and reserved. She has scanned Hank’s fingertips and took an ugly photo of his unshaved face a couple of minutes ago. And now there they were, standing barely behind the doorframe of the room. – “Goodnight.” 

The woman did not waste much time on small talk and turned around to probably manage some other important business. Perhaps she even went to deliver the late requested dinner. Hank wondered what rich and dangerous people usually eat. Lobsters with caviar? Human flesh? Mac’n’cheese? He had no idea. 

The heavy door quietly closed behind the former lieutenant’s back as he stepped in. The light switch was just to the right of him, activating the elegant round lamp on the ceiling. The bed was nicely done with a clean green cover and at least four pillows, which was, well… four more thank Hank has already gotten used to. 

Unfortunately, his bag was left near that uncomfortable bench somewhere within the city. He did not have anything to unpack. The man had to admit, however, that placing his few possessions around would probably not be reasonable, considering the fact that he would probably not stay there for long. Hank let out a short chuckle as he stepped further into the room, unzipping his outer coat. He really had no idea what the kid was planning to do with him. If Connor really wanted no victims, then he would need to deal with an old former cop. Perhaps the mob boss could just kill him somewhere else, where none of his employees or – his brother, was it? – would find out. 

“I mean, what else is he gonna do?” – the man asked himself quietly as he hanged his winter clothes over the back of a chair. – “Deport me into some other place so that I can be fucking homeless there?” 

The intricately decorated walls did not answer, and neither did the heavy curtains that shielded the room from the night outside. Anderson took a couple of steps towards the window and moved the thick fabric to the sides. The backyard looked suitably rich and fancy, enough to impress any neighbors, even though there were probably none to peek over the fences. Neatly-trimmed trees and a fucking stoned path between them. Hank could swear there should be a fountain around or something. God, the mansion must have been huge for such a big lawn to look adequate against it. 

The guest sighed and headed towards the bathroom fighting his unconscious hesitation in a front of such a fancy place. He got used to the shady public washrooms where one could catch some fungus or what’s worse. 

Someone has generously left not only a set of shampoo, shower gel, and soap, but also a nice razor and a bottle of shaving cream. Hank hasn’t been to a hairdresser in approximately one eternity, and his long dangles could definitely use some cutting, but shaving alone felt nice enough. There was a bathrobe, too. 

“Like a fucking hotel,” – the man grunted, taking a look in a mirror. 

The thing was definitely short for his 6’3” self, but it covered the important bits. If he expected to come out of all of this alive, he could get some laundry done as well. So there he was, washing his dirty old man clothes with a lavender-scented soap inside a rich boy’s bath, uncertain of his own fucking future in somebody else’s mercy. 

“What an existential picture, huh?” – he thought to himself. 

The photo was carefully placed on the bedside table, while the dripping clothes hanged around the open closet doors. Hank decided not to attempt cleaning his jackets and just hid under the heavy blankets in several minutes. He was never a maximalist in terms of pillows, but hugging one and putting his tired head on another felt heavenly. The softness of the mattress threatened to swallow his heavy body and he would not even dare to object. The long-awaited sleep softly covered him up a couple of seconds after he settled down. The lights remained on since the darkness seemed to drive his thoughts too far into the hells of his own head. 

*** 

A couple of extremely frustrating weeks went by. Hank tried to make sense of them but didn’t quite succeed. He was first offered a meal in the kitchen, where the staff already prepared for lunch. Then he was fed again a couple of hours later, and again – in the evening. He tried hiding with the cooks every time but nobody seemed to pay any special attention. Echo’s friendly partner kept finding him whenever she had something new to announce or propose. Anderson found himself in a doctor’s office, on a massage table, and in a hair stylist’s sadist hands in a short span of around a dozen days. He looked like a completely new man now, especially with the fresh clothes. 

“I feel like a dress-up game character,” – he mumbled to his massage therapist once. 

“Oh, I loved those as a kid!” – they replied and proceeded to mercilessly kneed his tight muscles. 

Connor would show up somewhere on the horizon every now and then, but it’s not like they’ve had a meaningful conversation. The guy definitely seemed busy with various errands. People would come to visit daily, some of them on a pretty regular basis. The majority of the staff lived somewhere else as well, but they usually arrived a lot earlier than the time Hank got used to waking up. Simon, the hairdresser, appeared at least three times and Anderson could not really guess who was he here for. 

“Don’t let Simon in on your position here,” – Ripple mentioned once when they met while eating a delicious breakfast in the kitchen. – “He has a loose tongue and works for other… major families in the area as well.” “Oh wow,” – Hank said and swallowed the fluffy chunk of fried egg white. – “Is there a secret criminal net of stylists or something?” The woman shook her head: “No, it’s just that he spends way too much time around the Manfred heir.” “Well, that must be of no surprise, after all, he is a *hair* specialist.” – Hank couldn’t help himself even though he was fully aware that… “That was horrible,” – Ripple looked him disappointedly in the eyes and put her fork down. – “Wow, can’t believe I am still suffering from old-men humor so many years after my dad disowned me, god.” Yeah, that spoiled the appetite and Anderson’s face got a little gloomier for a brief moment until he caught the assistant’s smirk. “Relax, it happened in another life.” – She stood up and gave his broad shoulder a little slap. – “Nothing more than a joke now.” – The woman quickly threw the last tiny cherry tomato into her mouth and proceeded to take her plate to the massive dishwasher. 

A busy staff member dexterously danced around her with a steaming pot. The former lieutenant totally acknowledged that the guys who worked there must have been really professional – as well as careful with their words – to be selected. “Don’t forget what I said!” – Ripple loudly reminded him before disappearing through the doorway on her way to a countless number of hassles. 

Her and Echo were working different shifts, both deeply invested in their jobs and still humane when one got to know them closer. Hank really wondered how did the two manage to make their relationship work, seeing that one would appear in the mansion shortly after her partner left. “Maybe they’re just as wise and loving as they’re smart, and sometimes that’s it,” – he thought, placing his dirty dish on its appropriate place. None of the women ever mentioned what is going to happen to him and both unknowingly shrugged their shoulders when the man would ask them. Perhaps Connor forgot about him and Hank could hide around this huge mansion or pretend to be a very hungry ghost? 

*** 

This million-dollar idea wouldn’t have worked out anyway, because Echo arrived at Anderson’s door the exact same evening. She looked serious in her dark suit, but the sort of acquaintance they’ve built up has let her to share her guesses on the way to Mr. Stern’s cabinet. 

“First of all – relax your pretty booty, he’s not gonna kill you.” – She said, taking quick steps on the soft fancy carpet. – “At least not any time soon. I think he is planning to give you some sort of job around here, but I’m not sure what exactly he is going to ask.” “I don’t think I can be of much use to a man like Connor,” – Hank said honestly, still feeling a little shiver crawl up his back. – “I was not particularly employable before I got here, you know?” “Yeah, I remember,” – the woman nodded. – “That’s why I’m not certain.” – She turned to open the wooden door and let her companion in.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was better lit this time, the lamps above shining soft and steady. The man himself was sitting in his expensive leather chair and frowning at his laptop screen. A steaming cup of tea took place exactly in his left hand’s reach, and Anderson noticed a little kettle on a tray on one of the emptier shelves.  


“Hank,” – Connor addressed looking up from whatever was taking up his attention. – “take a seat, please help yourself for some tea.” – he first gestured towards one of the vacant chairs in front of his desk and then to the cup set aside along with the kettle.  


“Do you want me to stay, Mr. Stern?” – Echo asked, her hair shining deep blue in the clear light.  


“Yes, I will need your help.” – the mob boss sighed, closed his laptop and reached for his cup.  


In front of him Anderson immediately felt clumsy and a bit too large for the place. The chairs and the shelves were suited for normal humans, not for 6’3” giants. He poured himself some tea, and he would do so for Echo, but there were no empty cups left. The man sat down in front of the tired mob as carefully as he could while not exposing his anxiousness too much. Or so he thought.  


Connor sighed placing his cup back on a tiny plate.  


“Nothing terrible is going to happen.” – He said. - “I can’t kill you, Hank, that is against my main objective, which is to run my business without unnecessary victims.” – His gaze wandered thoughtfully around the objects on his table. – “However, I can neither let you go.” – The bright brown eyes shoot a quick glance at the older man and immediately went down. – “Because of our competitors – especially those whose leader you have… well, met,” – the ends of his thin lips curled up for a fraction of a second, - “may start looking for you due to the important information you may now know. Besides, it would be a little upsetting for me personally to throw such a man back on the streets.”  


Hank wasn’t sure whether this guy just tried to compliment him or not. That could not possibly be the case, given how young and unforgivably handsome Connor was. Sitting there in his ironed shirt and a knotted-up tie, tired but still charming with all his gestures and micromimic. If only they met in a different time and different circumstances. And let’s be honest – if only they were different people altogether, then perhaps…  


“I am glad to see that you are feeling better now,” – the mob said, tracing the edge of his cup with a delicate ringed index finger. – “But we need to discuss the terms on which you are going to stay further.”  


“If I can be of any kind of help, I will certainly…” – Anderson started but a soft hand motion made him close his mouth.  


“I cannot just bring a stranger here and give him a job around the house.” – Stern sighed. – “Unfortunately, the place and any knowledge of it have to be securely guarded. However, my main concern is of a different character.”  


A pause hanged for a couple of seconds and Hank could catch an understanding nod from Echo who remained still at the opposite side of the table.  


“My brother will be returning from his trip in a couple of days, and it is crucial for me to… make a proper impression of my methods.” – Connor glanced at the man again and continued. – “I do not want him to know that my mission got messed with by an outsider. Moreover, he must not find out that I kept a witness and brought them here.”  


“So… are you gonna send me away? Like, hide me somewhere?”  


“It’s not like I personally own a lot of bunkers in the neighboring area. Moreover, Niles will probably know if someone arrives on our other property, where you,” – another sliding eye contact, - “would have even fewer reasons to appear.”  


“Then what could possibly justify me staying here, in your literal home?” – tension in the room grew by tiny, barely noticeable measures, but it summed up in the air between them.  


“I do have a habit of bringing… let’s say, personal guests who stay here under special circumstances,” – Stern answered and took another sip from his cup. – “And I think you could fit in this role just fine.”  


“What kind of special circumstances do you mean?” – Hank frowned as he felt Echo’s gaze land on him.  


“Mister Stern does invite his partners to stay with him from time to time, this wouldn’t cause many questions from mister Stern the elder.” – The woman explained.  


“Partners as in...?” – Connor drowned his tired gaze in the hot tea and took a bit of his endless strength to make eye contact with the man in front of him.  


“As in dating, Hank, you got it right. Some of my lovers, for the lack of a better word, stay and leave as they wish, but I didn’t quite have anyone over for some time now. You would look, well, convincing in this role.”  


The room got quiet for a moment as the former lieutenant couldn’t believe his ears. A thin string of steam danced above his cup, barely visible in the lit room.  


“With all due respect, nobody is going to buy that you got interested in an old piece of shit like me,” – the man said with a short but all-too-familiar grin on his face. – “You literally dag me out of garbage, remember?”  


“I did not, and you will have to leave the self-degrading comments out of your speech as long as my brother is around.” – Connor sighed and took another sip before placing the cup back onto the plate with a quiet tinkle. – “I will not ask much from you, stay out of his sight if you can, but don’t purposefully hide away either. We will need to show up together from time to time, but I’m going to look for a way to get you out safely as soon as possible.”  


“I can take on the search for now,” – Echo proposed, and her words made Hank feel like somebody got his back for once, like in the good old times.  


“I was actually planning to give you and Ripple a couple of weeks off. You should get out, travel somewhere before I make sure that Niles is done sniffing around about my errands.” – He nodded in approval but the expression of gratitude and slight pride left his face swiftly. – “It’s like I don’t have much to do without cleaning up this whole mess and playing pretends in my own house.”  


The words pierced Hank somewhere sensitive as he felt immediately responsible for the mob’s distress. He didn’t expect the younger guy to hurt him, but the thought of somehow harming Connor felt quite unpleasant. The former policeman wished it all could go around another way; he has bothered enough people in his life already.  


“Thank you, sir,” – Echo bowed her head, looking grateful, but evidently trying not to smile too wide.  


“You both have earned it.” – Connor replied and turned back to Anderson. – “Now I hope that we are all clear with the arrangements, someone will take care of the preparations you would need to maintain the impression.” – He shook his fingers in the air as one of his numerous gestures.  


“O-… what preparations do you mean?” – Hank asked, frowning in suspicion.  


“It’s not like your carnival shirts don’t suit you, but my brother… would probably find it more believable if you dressed a little different.” – The mob answered, his voice slipping into exhaustion and a tiny bit of irritation. – “Though I do apologize for intruding on your way of self-expression.”  


“You apologize for what now?” – the former lieutenant definitely felt a bit lost in trying to understand the situation. – “Is this some “Princess Diaries” kind of shit?”  


“You clearly haven’t watched the movie,” – Connor answered softly and nodded do Echo. – “You may both go now, goodnight.”  
The woman took Hank by his shoulder and walked him away in several quick moments before the man could say another word. The solid wooden door quietly shut behind them, but no one said anything. Anderson looked at the carpet under his new shoes thinking about the strange turn of the situation. Just before stepping into his guest room, he turned to his companion.  


“Didn’t he seem… condescending to you?”  


“That’s kind of the way he has always been,” – she shrugged her shoulders. – “I’m sure it will be alright.”  


“You must be happy to spend some time with Ripple,” – Hank smiled.  


“Yeah, those are good news, not gonna lie,” – she mirrored his expression just before they said their goodbyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Days rushed by quite quickly, Hank had to go through the embarrassment of trying on new clothes and taking further advice on how to act around Stern the elder. The whole situation still seemed ridiculous but there was no one to complain to, now that Ripple and Echo have happily left. 

One morning, Anderson has noticed a familiar face in the hallway. Simon, the hairstylist, looked around the entrance area, not deciding whether he should go further in or not. He was blond, a bit on the shorter side, and always had a kind look on his face. The guards stood on both sides of the main door, but Hank has never seen them, welcome visitors. Their job was to guard the entrance and only a selected number of housekeepers could enter the building without a special escort. Ripple has warned Hank about Simon’s potential personal interests, but the man didn’t think it made the guy a threat. 

“How is it going, Simon?” – he asked, approaching the stylist. 

“It’s alright,” – the guy smiled and took another glance down one of the hallways. – “Haven’t you seen the assistants? I need someone to let me in.” 

“Oh, I don’t think they’re here today,” – Hank answered. – “Does someone need a haircut today?” 

“Well, yes, I got a notice around an hour ago. Seems like an urgent matter,” – Simon said, and now Anderson noticed the way he nervously held the broad strap of his shoulder bag. 

“I wonder who might have asked for this,” – the former lieutenant raised his eyebrows. – “I personally do not scout the house that much, but do you want me to look around for someone who could help you in?” 

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” – the guy nodded thankfully, and Hank proceeded to look around. 

He went down one of the hallways, where the bright light of the early day illuminated the crème-colored walls through the windows in the rooms. The doors were always open, apart from those in the owner’s cabinet and personal bed chambers, of course. This wing seemed mostly empty, as always, but Hank’s sight caught a figure in one of the rooms. 

Sun rays framed a slim silhouette of a young man, who was standing shirtless and looking out through the clear glass. His wet dark hair curled messily and lost droplets of water onto his pale shoulders. A white towel was wrapped around his waist and he held a similar one in his hands, seemingly drying off just moments ago. Anderson froze in place, not able to speak for a couple of seconds. The younger man felt his gaze and slowly turned around to look at the former lieutenant. The familiar sight of his face felt somehow alien and different, but Hank couldn’t quite put his finger onto the reason. The man’s eyebrows quickly jumped showing both surprise and disinterest at the same time, and that is when Anderson realized… 

“Hank!” – an easily recognizable voice called him from the right side of the hallway. – “Were you looking for me, honey?” 

Connor approached him from the direction Hank followed just a few moments ago himself. He looked, well, a bit different with that cheerful smile on his face. The mob confidently grabbed Anderson’s forearm with his two hands and pushed him slightly to the side. 

“I have just squeezed half an hour for us,” - he said, looking directly into the man’s eyes, and then turned around to see the man in the room. – “You have already met Niles, I imagine?” – He asked, still addressing Hank. 

The former lieutenant did not get to respond when a similar voice with evidently harsher intonations caught his attention. 

“Is Simon already here?” – Connor’s brother asked, seemingly ignoring Anderson’s presence. 

“Yes, Josh has just let him in,” - the mob nodded and, with a couple of smooth steps, dragged Hank away from Niles’ sight. *** 

Things took a considerable turn since that morning. Hank had to get back into wearing white and light-blue button-ups just like he did during the first years of being an officer. Connor once noted that they made him look “well, different, especially with the trimmed beard,” which could almost count as a compliment. They have definitely started spending more time together, especially on the days when Niles stayed in the mansion. 

Younger Stern picked a cozy spot at Anderson’s left side, where he often held him by the elbow or the forearm, lightly squeezing the soft flesh of relaxed muscles. The pretending couple took walks around the garden, dined together and did everything they could to seem interested in each other. Connor has called for Hank on several specific occasions when he needed to “hide” from his brother. And those were the cases that forced the former lieutenant to face his unexpected attitude towards the arrangement: he turned out to enjoy it, at least from some perspective. 

The mob was definitely convincing in his fake affection. The dark eyelashes trembled when their faces got too close in an attempt to drive the only audience member away. Anderson could not stop looking at his parted lips or his smile, mindlessly scanned the numerous moles on the guy’s cheekbones and nose. Connor was especially good at leaning on him and using his arm for support while walking or sitting on a bench. Hank could guess what would it feel like to pick him up and perhaps carry around… The man tried not to think where he would want to take his fake partner and what would be especially tempting in that situation. 

Stern also smelled heavenly, pressing against his “guest” and whispering another apology about how inconvenient it must be to stay this way. He always promised that their embrace would not last long, just enough for his brother to notice and turn away. Unfortunately, Anderson subtly wished for Niles to stay longer. 

“I am sorry,” – Connor whispered, lightly caressing his “partner’s” beard with the tips of his fingers. – “He’s gonna leave soon, I just need time until the evening to…” – He lifted himself up of the bench, closing up the distance between their faces. 

His firm but slim arm was still on Hank’s biceps, holding through the soft cotton fabric of the shirt. The odor of the mob’s perfume reached Anderson’s nostrils when Stern touched his cheek with the cold tip of his nose. The rest of the sentence drowned somewhere in the man’s fastened heartbeat. Connor quietly exhaled and moved away several seconds later, probably seeing that his brother left with the corner of his shiny brown eyes. They were still too close when their gazes met and the mob said: 

“This must be troubling for you; I am quite… tactile.” 

“No, uh… I mean…” – Hank’s throat felt soar and he let out a small cough to win some time for thinking. – “That’s alright, whatever you need, uh… sir?” – He wasn’t sure how to address his fake partner now that the performance was over. 

They had conversations, sure, but those were mostly Connor’s pretending monologues. The guy turned out to be smart and rather well-read for a person of his generation. Stern held strong opinions about classic American literature and definitely enjoyed explaining the importance of diversity in authors’ and characters’ representation. Before everything rolled downhill, Anderson was sort of a book lover himself, he even had a large case suited just for keeping printed copies of his favorite novels. Unfortunately, their tastes drastically differed in… levels of sophistication, which pushed Hank into silently nodding and listening in the majority of cases. Luckily, he could often busy himself up with following table manners, which were almost wiped out of his mind before. Connor bravely initiated teaching him some basic skills, but the student got overly distracted with the sensation of gentle fingers on his rough hands. Perhaps a similar thing happened just now when Stern’s slim palm softly laid on his chest. 

“You really need to just use my name, or else we’re going to get even more frustrated.” – The younger man smiled. – “That is unless calling me ‘sir’ is something that brings up your passion,” – he added with a coy smile and chuckled lightly. – “Don’t get all tense, it’s just a joke.” 

Hank hasn’t really noticed how he straightened his back and held his breath for a second, worriedly trying not to let out his sudden embarrassment. With all the pretending they had to do, Connor turned out to be quite a… tease? No, that couldn’t be the case, and probably that was just Anderson’s affection-starved old perception that was tricking him instead. 

“Uh… sure,” – he managed to respond and felt sincerely relieved when his “partner” leaned back onto the bench. 

The air suddenly felt colder and more refreshing. The mob’s smile seemed both coy and a bit sympathetic as he finally got up and instructed Hank to come to his office in around two hours, which should be just in time for his brother to finish his business call.


	5. Chapter 5

Their mutual performance continued even when Echo and Ripple returned from their fortnight-long vacation. Both a bit more tanned from the sun and definitely happier after their long rest. Anderson got used to carrying things around for his ‘partner’. He could be asked to bring books, tea, let certain guests in and more. None of that, of course, provided any information about the family’s business. Sterns did control a large portion of technology market in the city, but that was as far as the common gossips went. Simon – a big chatterbox – once let out that other important people in Detroit had strong connections with the mobs, including premises of future trade and other kinds of link strengthening. 

“When businesses want to secure their partnership,” – he said once, leaving after styling the brothers’ hair for a formal event, - “they may even connect members of the families by marriage. These couples rarely become romantically involved, but a fraction of the resources often gets to be shared and mutually controlled.” 

“Wow, this sounds… archaic, don’t you think?” – Hank commented, escorting the guy to the front door shortly after the owners’ departure. 

“Perhaps,” – the blonde man shrugged his shoulders. – “But that’s an effective method. Even the Sterns have premised one of their heirs to the Manfred family, you know.” 

“Wait, you mean the current business owners? They just agreed on behalf of their future children or-” 

“No-o, silly,” – Simon laughed, getting into his jacket. – “Their mother sold one of them to her long-time business partner before kicking the bu-… I mean, tragically passing away.” – He corrected himself after catching a strict glance from one of the door guards. – “Anyway, thanks for letting me out. See you later, Hank!” – and he was out of the door before his companion could add another word. 

The Manfreds turned out to be a wealthy family of a father and two sons, all earning influence and fame through selling and producing works of art. Hank had a bit of a google trip looking for information about them on the phone that Connor gifted mainly for calling him over. The rumor was that the blood-born son Leo had past issues with drug addiction, while his adopted brother Markus was involved in activism both online and offline. Taller-than-average, serious looking guy with heterochromia – he could work as a model. And did so, but only for paintings of the artists financially supported by his father. That one looked like a more suitable candidate to inherit the family business and, perhaps, get married to one of the Stern brothers. The thought of Connor being with a handsome guy his age seemed logical, but made Hank feel sore nonetheless. He frowned, looking at the screen of his phone. Anderson definitely needed glasses, but he did not feel arrogant enough to ask for something like that. After all, he was not there to see things clearly, all he needed to do was bring Connor shit and live through the mocking performances for his brother. 

Simon did not appear for another half-a-month, and nobody else could bring up the topic of marriage of convenience. Echo confirmed the information about the agreement between the families, but seemingly did not care much about it. 

“I know it may seem like you have something to do with it, but you really don’t,” – she said, looking Hank in the eyes during one of their dinners together. – “People like them usually separate their business deals from personal lives. And you are not a part of any of those things, so you should be fine. Besides, it’s not like they’re going to marry tomorrow.” 

“You’re right,” – the man sighed in response. – “I should be fine.” 

It wasn’t until a week after their conversation that the Manfred’s name rustled around the mansion again. Hank’s phone showed up a small notification of a message ordering him to the ground floor in several hours. “Look proper,” – the text red, making Anderson a bit anxious. It’s not like he walked in his pajamas around, but there was a definite difference between a casual shirt and “looking proper”. 

The former lieutenant showered, trimmed his beard and brushed his hair back. He has gotten greyer – or, should he say, whiter? – over the months on the street. So now, when his recent haircut has started to wear out a bit, he looked a bit too old and a bit too fancy for his own liking. This image was mercilessly highlighted with a grey jacket and a goddamn tie. Connor never required anything more, so Hank hoped that he could pass as “proper” that evening as well. 

Echo and Ripple both stood at the bottom of the stairs, two pairs of sharp eyes turning to Anderson as he came down from his room. They were dressed formal as well, smart dark-blue trousers and bow ties, which subtly made them look like a couple of brides. They did not plan to marry yet, but Hank could tell that this occasion was not far off. 

“Glad you’re here on time,” – Ripple said, smiling shortly. – “There is a major job for you at the today’s meeting.” 

“What meeting?” – the man asked, finally standing next to the women. 

“Markus, the Manfred heir, is going to be here to discuss something business-related,” – Echo replied sternly and took a small step forward to casually adjust Hank’s tie. 

They definitely became friends over the time spent together, but such touches still humbled the former lieutenant. He awkwardly turned to look away and noticed several sets of headlights flashing outside the dark window. 

“And somebody has to pour the drinks,” – Ripple continued, putting one hand into her pocket. 

“Why didn’t Connor ask you? It’s not that I mind, but perhaps I am going to scare the important guests off with my shaky hands and shit…” – Anderson mumbled nervously. 

“Assistants are usually not allowed, sort of an etiquette thing,” – Echo explained, finally stepping back and taking a look at the tightened nod. 

“It’s just to make sure we’re not snitching,” – her partner huffed and turned to face the sounds from outside the front door. – “They’re here.” 

“Wait, why wouldn’t I snitch?” – the man asked anxiously, following the assistants to the door. 

“You’re just a pretty pet of Connor’s. Besides, if you decide to snitch, you would get more harm than benefit out of it. Important people usually don’t pick up each other’s lounge candies,” – Anderson has taken a moment to process the fact that he was called both a ‘pretty pet’ and a ‘lounge candy’ within half a minute. Unfortunately, this moment was all it took before the doors opened. 

“Don’t panic, we’ll help you out,” – Ripple whispered before putting on her ‘polite social interaction smile’. 

Echo did the same thing, and Hank rushed to imitate some sort of a welcoming expression, even though he has not consciously smiled in what should have been around six months. There was no feedback on how he performed, since all attention was taken away by the owners of the house and their guest. 

Niles, in a light jacket over his black turtleneck, took the first steps into the hall, scanning everything from under his frowned eyebrows. His light-colored eyes sent a chilling breeze over the room, cold gaze slithering up and down Anderson’s figure in less than a second. Ripple took a couple of wide steps to take his jacket and proceeded to do the same with Connor. The younger Stern has scanned the room in a similar way, shrug the warm clothing off his shoulders and gave Hank a surprisingly warm look. 

Markus Manfred looked as impressive as his portraits made by the aspiring Detroit artists. He stood tall in his long grey coat, silently waiting for the assistant to help him in. The man looked around the room, smart eyes focused, but not tense or suspicious. He did not pay much attention to the assistants, guards, or a random old man at the side of the door. 

“Hank,” - Connor called, approaching him with a coy smile. The mob reached his slim hand out and grabbed his pretend partner’s tie right under Echo’s secure nod. In one smooth and confident motion, he pulled Anderson down and pressed their lips together. 

Wet, breathy and a little too shallow, the kiss still punched all air out of Hank’s lungs. He froze for a second, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaped, inches from his fake – fake? - lover’s face. Stern smiled at him, flirty and proud, still holding the expensive tie with his surprisingly strong fingers. 

“You wouldn’t mind serving the tea for us tonight, would you?” – he asked, tone sly and casual, as if they were doing that sort of shit every day. Anderson wasn’t quick enough to decide whether it was the tea or the making out his thoughts were referring to. 

“Ehh… of course,” – the man replied, a little on the quieter side, but he managed to put a less surprised face on. At last. 

“Wonderful,” – the mob smiled, softly patted Hank’s broad chest and slid his hand along Anderson’s large body to grab him across the back. 

“Follow me,” – Echo suggested with a small nod and gestured towards one of the ground-floor hallways.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment or discuss this with me on twitter @Celandineflower  
> Also, please contact me if you are willing to proof-read or beta this fic


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